


Aliens and Wizards and Mobsters (oh my)

by Ook



Category: Doctor Who, Dresden Files- Jim Butcher
Genre: Adventure, Aliens, Allegedly funny in parts, Crossover, M/M, On Hiatus, kinkmeme fill, old fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ook/pseuds/Ook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Donna experience Chicago. Harry Dresden meets them tackling an alien in their usual way, and then everyone's favourite organised criminal gets involved. As he so often does.</p><p>Aliens! Alien police! Snark! Donna Noble!</p><p> </p><p>This has been placed on Hiatus until I get the time/muse inspiration to edit and beta what's already up here. There's been a major improvement in my writing since I started this (I think) and I cannot continue this until the part already up matches what will be written later. Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this waaaay last year, back when I was reading/posting on the Dresden files kink meme, and then my life happened, in an un fun way, and I forgot this. Untill a certain person on this site reminded me, and I thought I should pop this up here, mostly as proof I can write something that isn't XMFC Erik/Charles AU H/C. Not complete, but I will finish as soon as I can remember more of the plot.

It was business as usual that day in Chicago, before the beautiful redhead turned up to throw her shoes at me. Not a reaction from women- or men- I usually get. Slapping, yes. Screaming, occasionally. Sometimes the good kind. But shoe throwing? That was unexpected. 

Like the fifteen bigheaded biker types, and their gassy friend who all seemed to be intent on causing me trouble. 

Okay, maybe I should explain a little. My name is Harry Dresden, and I’m a wizard. And a PI. No, not the Harry Potter and Hogwarts kind of wizard, thank you. A real one. Still, I hadn’t been wizarding or private investigating anyone when I got into trouble. For once. 

I swear, things like this only seem to happen to me. 

I was walking back to my apartment- my noble and trusty car having broken down; again, when all of a sudden, I was surrounded by short and angry bikers with really large heads. And their taller friend with some kind of a digestion problem. They definitely weren’t human, but they weren’t Fae or demons either. I’m a wizard, we can tell these things. Plus they looked really weird, even for Chicago. I mean, they had huge heads. Not the gassy guy, the bikers. I couldn’t tell what they were, but they were heavily muscled, wearing something that looked like leather jumpsuits and enormous helmets, and they moved like cops- or enforcers. Lead biker growled something at me.

“So Ko Fro No To!”

“Sorry, buddy, we sold out of them last week.” Looked like Biker Number One didn’t get the joke. He shouted some more and Gassy Guy said something to him. Looked like he was the leader  
“Look, if you can’t control your pets, they should be leashed.”  
“They’re not pets,” Gassy Guy said, smoothly. Then he burped. He looked at some electronic toy he was carrying, as it beeped frantically, and then died with a crackle

“Well, whatever they are, they’re in my way.” Gassy guy just looked at the dead toy, and said something that wasn’t English, but was definitely swearing. I could tell by the tone. Then he thumped the box. It let out a little whine, and that was all.  
“What did you do?” He looked startled and uneasy. Good. Now I wasn’t the only one.  
I wasn’t about to tell him I had that effect on most technology. I spread my hands out and looked as innocent and harmless as a six foot nine duster wearing wizard can, and said  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t think so!” He snarled something at the big heads, and they moved in on me. OK. That was a little alarming. I focused, and shouted _“Forzare!”_ They all went sprawling. I took a few steps back. Seemed like getting out of here might be a good plan. It was late, so the street was fairly empty- no bystanders to worry about. Of course, that was when Gassy Guy pulled out his weapon. I say weapon, because it sure wasn’t any gun I had ever seen, but it looked pretty threatening. I raised my shield bracelet in front of me, just in time for the first shot to strike my shields and not me. 

I’ve never felt anything like it. That one shot felt like someone had hit me with a wrecking ball. My shield spell sputtered and died. I nearly fell over. Gassy guy looked surprised to see me still standing, and thumbed some kind of catch off his gun. It began to glow. This apparently upset the short and angry bikers and they started shouting again too. I started to back away faster, when a stone or something turned under my feet. I went sprawling. Great. Gassy Guy smirked, shook off the shouting bikers and aimed at me again.

And that’s when the beautiful redhead I mentioned earlier showed up. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know she was a redhead- I only had eyes for Gassy Guy and his gun. She yelled  
“Oi mate! What d’you think you’re doing?” and threw her shoe at him. It impacted on his shoulder; just enough that the next shot missed me and set fire to the pavement. I lunged away gracefully, and she threw her other shoe. He shifted his aim and attention to her, and I swept out my wizard’s staff at ankle height. He fell, mostly on me, and partly on the burning pavement. 

There was another electronic crackle and pop and something he’d had strapped around his neck gave off a shower of sparks and died. And so did whatever illusion spell he’d been using. Now, Gassy Guy was not a tall, tubby human anymore- he was green, bald, mostly nude, and looked like ET and Yoda had got up to something they shouldn’t have. With claws.I said something I shouldn’t have in front of a lady. 

The redhead said something similar. I don’t know what the angry bikers were saying, but it sure sounded like swearing to me. Half of them were pointing more weird guns at him, and the other half was pointing them at me and the redhead. I’d been able to tell from her accent she wasn’t from Chicago, or even the USA. She was from the good ol’ UK. Now I was able to actually turn my head and actually look at her. She was beautiful. I may have told her that, because she looked like she wanted to hit me with something. Luckily for me, she’d run out of shoes. 

Then the leader of the angry bikers turned to me and took off his helmet, and I understood why they were so big. He had the head of a rhino. Humanoid body, rhino head. Short, angry, rhino-headed bikers. I’d never seen anything like it, except when some of the fae were playing about with illusions, and this was definitely not fae magic. I couldn’t tell what kind of magic it was, and I didn’t dare use my Sight. There was more shouting, but I think I may have been a little confused by that point. Stopping that gun from hitting me had really done a number on me. I started feeling pretty dizzy. The redhead was shouting at them as well. Everyone was getting a little over excited. 

That’s when the skinny guy in the pinstripe suit and Converse turned up.

\-----------------------------

The TARDIS- externally an old blue police telephone box, internally a dimensionally transcendental craft capable of travelling to any point in Time and Space in the Universe- was humming, happily. The Doctor, currently favoring his brown pinstripe suit, was dancing around the hexagonal console, tweaking instruments, flicking levers and observing the results.  
“So. We’re in Chicago, then?” said Donna, thoughtfully  
“Yes, Donna. Chicagoland is where we are.” The Doctor reached down, picked up a hammer, and thumped the console. The humming went up in pitch, and a green light began to flash. His face fell, and he pulled another handle.

“In the twenty first century?” Now Donna was sounding more than thoughtful.  
“Yes, Donna.” More lever pulling followed. The green light stopped flashing.  
"So. Twenty first century Chicago. On Earth. Where there are shops. Twenty first Century Earth Shops” Donna continued, pointedly.  
“Ye- Donna Noble, what are you insinuating?”  
“I’d like to go shopping.”

“Donna, we landed in Chicago, following a distress signal, and almost immediately you threw your shoes at fifteen misled Judoon and a Slitheen disguised as a Time Agent! None of whom should have been on this planet or in this century!”   
“Yeah, but you haven’t been able to trace the signal since, have you? What kind of signal was it, anyway?”  
“My kind of signal.” He said, a little shortly. Her eyebrows rose. He didn’t add anything else.  
“The Judoon pushed off after they found that green bloke was from Raxicod- Rexcad-“

“Raxacoricofallapatorius.” He pushed a few buttons. The display screen began to flicker, and then turned blue. He muttered something in Mandarin. Donna continued, oblivious.  
"That place, yeah. Any way. They arrested him for scamming them, and left, so we don’t have to worry about them. And that tall bloke seemed alright, even if he was confused. And I. Want. To. Go. Shopping.” She looked at her trainer-clad feet pointedly. He ran his fingers through his wild brown hair, and picked up the hammer again.

“Why do you want to go shopping, anyway? There are always shops almost everywhere we go. Even in hospitals, and, and libraries. Don’t you want to find out more about the Judoon?”  
“One, I need new shoes.” Donna folded her arms. The Doctor became wary, knowing her danger signals almost as well as the TARDIS’s. He backed around the console, and thumped another part. Nothing changed.  
“There are lots of shoes in the Wardrobe Room.” He tried not to sound placatory.

“And two, Space boy, I draw the line at wearing alien bras!”  
“You do? Ah, right, um, ok, never mind…” Thump, thump, thump went the hammer. The TARDIS blared a distress noise at him. “Sorry, old girl, sorry!”  
“And don’t call me-“  
“Not you, the Tardis!”. She didn’t look mollified. “Look, if I give you my credit cards, will you please stop talking about underwear and shopping and go and enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ll even keep me ears open for anything strange, how’s that sound?”  
“Brilliant!” He flashed her a relieved grin. She held out her hands for the credit cards “There you go.”  
“How come you have bank accounts, anyway? Seems a bit… modern.”  
“Donna!” He threw her a mock affronted look. “I have been banking with Coutts since the first Mr. Coutts *had* a bank, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Show off.” She sounded good natured again. The Doctor absolutely did not breathe a sigh of relief. “See you in a bit.” 

“Stay out of trouble!” He tweaked a button. A little bell rang. He grinned.  
“Doctor, I’ll be fine.” Donna said, cheerfully. “This is modern Chicago, not Pompeii or the planet of the Ood. I know Earth, yeah? I’ve got your cards, I’ve got my phone, I’ll cope.”  
“Don’t be too long.”  
“Nothing’s going to go wrong, Doctor. Don’t worry. Bye!” She was gone.  
“Bye!” he said, absently. He tried the other lever, the one he never touched. It wouldn’t move. Time to get the oil out, then. Whistling to the Tardis, he reached for his sonic screwdriver.

 

***  
Donna enjoyed herself, wandering from shop to shop. She’d been a little worried about the credit cards- not everything the Doctor gave her was safe, or reliable- but they worked a treat. She resolved to test them very thoroughly. They even worked in cash machines, giving her dollars as happily as the next person in the queue. After the first place, her feet were tired, and she had bags to carry, so she got into the habit of hopping into the nearest taxi, saving her legs for whenever she and the Doctor next needed to run. She sighed. There was so much running involved with travelling with her spaceman friend, the stillettos she had just bought and was wearing were hardly wise. Still, they looked good on her, and that was the main thing.

By the third mall, she was feeling hungry, so Donna asked the new taxi driver- a red head like herself- if he knew of a good place for lunch. He scratched his ear, thoughtfully.   
“You like Italian?”  
“Lead me to it, mate!”  
“’Kay.” He didn’t say anything further. Clearly one of the strong and silent types. Donna did wonder why a man so big was driving a car for a living. It couldn’t be comfortable, sitting all cramped up in the tiny front seat like that. He handled the cab really well, though, swinging it into and out of traffic with the ease of a professional, so he was obviously good at it.

***

The Doctor didn’t really notice Donna’s absence for a while. Whatever was up with the TARDIS was interesting. And he’d always loved a bit of fiddling. Just ask Nero. Not that that fire had been his fault, really.   
It was quite some time after she left before her final statement trickled through his ears and reached his brain.  
“Did she just say ‘nothing’s going to go wrong?’ Oh, dear.” He snatched his trench coat from the hat stand, and fled out after his wandering companion. Behind him, deep in the Tardis, the Cloister Bell, the Time Lords’ signal of danger, or death, or high strangeness approaching was ringing, wildly, urgently. 

A deep, flat and ominous noise, it conveyed warning and caution to anyone within earshot. 

Unfortunately, no one was in the Tardis to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

So, last night had ended really weirdly. Even for me. It had involved a gorgeous redhead, fifteen bikers, and two other dudes. I know, sounds like the beginning of some lame joke, right? Or locker room bragging, which I don’t do. Because, despite what other people say, I am capable of self restraint. Not because I’d have nothing to say. Not that I’m bragging. 

Shut up. 

I’d been threatened by unrecognizable creatures, and saved by one angry British redhead and another skinny- believe me, with my build, I know from skinny- suit wearing Brit. I could tell they were British because of the accent; but I didn’t really learn much more then. Soon as Pinstripe had turned up and shouted at them, and the leader guy’s illusion spell had bust, they vanished really quickly. Like they were afraid of him. Or of the redhead- I heard him calling her Donna, but I didn’t catch his name- she just called him Doctor. Oh, and Spaceman, but I don’t think that was his name, somehow.

Whatever powers the bikers were using, they were good. I didn’t catch a flicker of magic from any of them, not even when the illusion broke. Being as how I’m a wizard, I can usually detect that kind of thing with a little effort. These guys, though? Not a trace. Maybe they were afraid of shoes? And both Pinstripe and Donna disappeared almost as fast once the bikers had gone, sadly before I could close my jaw and ask them what the hell was going on, or for her number.

But, weird nights or not, even a wizard has to eat, and he certainly has to pay his rent. So I was sat in my office, reading a paperback, and maybe hoping some rent in the shape of a client would walk in. If I’d known then what I know now, or been able to see the future, I think I’d have locked the door. Or stayed in bed that day. Oh, who am I kidding, I wouldn’t have. I totally won’t. Will not. Whatever.

Look, time and perspective do weird things to your tenses, ok? Something else I was about to learn more about. So, there I was, that afternoon, sitting in my office, reading Robin McKinley’s “Sunshine”, when my newest client walked in. She was a bit of a mouse at first glance- quietly spoken, subdued colours and so on. I looked at her as she came in, and bet myself a Coke it was either her husband or maybe her brother. She was too young for it to be her kid’s problems. I hoped.  
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” She coloured a little and said

“Please don’t call me that. Call me Barbara. It’s my husband.” Great. I owed myself a Coke.  
“What’s been going on? A good open question. She could take the conversation anywhere she needed to, meaning I’d maybe get lucky and pick up some background info without having to ask.

Barbara was an author, it turned out- not a big one, but it paid the bills, apparently. She wrote sci-fi- good old spaceships, heroic beings and alien wars and other impossible things like that. Her husband had managed her books as part of his job as a lawyer. It had all been really sweet and improbably domestic, according to her. So far, so usual. But then her husband had started being strange.  
“Well, Ian’s always been a bit moody, but lately... it’d been worse. And last week... Last week he vanished.”  
“He moved out?”  
"No.” Now she was getting agitated, either at the memory or maybe out of a fear wouldn’t believe her. “We went to the park, with Jane.”

“Jane?”  
“Our daughter. She started fussing, so I picked her up from her blanket. Ian stood up- I saw it out of the corner of my eye- and when I looked up, he wasn’t there.”  
“Could he have maybe walked off behind a tree or something?”  
“No!” she almost shouted, her face flushed and upset. “I looked up and he was gone! And I haven’t seen him since.”  
“But what I don’t understand,” I said, as politely as I could, “Is why you came to me. A wandering husband-“

_“Missing!”_

“Sorry. A missing husband- surely that’s a job for the police. Or maybe a more… regular PI?”  
“One who doesn’t advertise himself as a wizard, you mean?” She wasn’t happy. “I did go to the police. I got a polite brush off, a not so polite brush off, and an insinuation that if he hadn’t left me because I was plain and unwomanly, I’d probably killed him when he cheated on me. Because, being plain and unwomanly I wouldn't be able to keep a man.” She bared her teeth. Some people might have called it a smile.

“That is such a weird word.” I said, thoughtfully.  
"What, plain?” She looked tense, ready to be angry.  
“Unwomanly. They actually used that?” I wasn’t going to touch the plain part. Not with her husband being missing, and the baby and everything. She wasn’t- she wasn’t exactly a supermodel, but she wasn’t plain. Or unwomanly. Whatever that meant.  
“Yes.” She said, grimly.

I flushed. "Uh. Sorry ma’am. “I can see why you decided to try a PI. And the… the-“ She cut me off.   
“The wizard thing? Well, before he vanished like that, Ian was… strange for a week or two. Said he’d seen the impossible. Kept talking about aliens and conspiracies- like he’d read my books too much. Like he believed in them. And I thought someone… someone”  
"Someone who believed in other weird stuff might get a better bead on him?”

“Something like that. Unless you were a conman. But I don’t think you are.” Her head tilted, and she looked at me sideways, and she repeated herself, thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think you are.” That was strange. It disturbed me enough to get the meeting moving on quickly, but not enough to turn down the job. I could put up with plenty of weird and disturbing for the money she was offering. Seemed Barb’s books paid better than I thought. Or she really loved her husband. 

I walked Barbara outside. Hey, I’m just a gentleman like that. Also I wanted to check she actually had the car she said she had, and get a feel for her off it if I could. I’m not completely dumb; her story could have been designed for me. even the very odd part about him vanishing into thin air. He might have opened a Way, I guessed, or maybe snatched and eaten by a grue, or whatever. Quite a lot of people know I’m a sucker for the chivalrous gestures. Now Barb knew I’d agreed to work for her, she might relax a little, let something slip, if she wasn’t on the up and up. It’s these little things that make a good PI, you know?

Turns out, I was right to do that. But not because she let something slip.

\-------------------------

 

I had become aware, through my usual channels, of Mr Dresden’s… altercation on the street. That in itself caused me little concern; Harry is as bluntly confrontational as he is easily exploited by the weak and vulnerable. Honest and chivalry are not strengths in my opinion, however the world considers such qualities, but Harry Dresden has gone very far at times to make it clear how little my opinions concern him. What concerned me currently was that I could find very little information on who or what had been opposing him, and only rumours about the couple who had assisted him. Such a paucity of information made me wonder if it had been a set up; to convince Harry the strangers were his friends. Furthermore, I wondered if it was perhaps some subtle magical challenge to me, as Baron, or to the other magical groups in the city, this appearing and disappearing without warning or diplomatic overtures. 

I did not like to work in without sufficient information. I had made it clear to my employees that I was eager to speak to either the red haired woman or the suit wearing man, at their earliest convenience. I had stressed that courtesy was to be employed at all times; some magical beings have power out of all relation to their appearance, and value manners very highly. The redheaded woman did not value courtesy, despite not being a magical being. She had been unobservant enough to get into one of my cars, instead of a taxi, and Mr Hendricks had brought her straight into my office, once Ms Gard had assured me she carried no mystical or ordinary threats with her. She was, apparently entirely ordinary. I did not make the mistake of assuming this meant she was no threat.

I am reasonably good at evaluating personalities and situations. I always have been, long before I became Gentleman Johnny Marcone, Baron and head of the Chicago outfit. I’m used to dealing with all varieties of reactions to my presence; from terror, to rudeness to death threats or attacks. Not much shocks me; still less surprises me. Donna Noble, as she informed me was her name, surprised me. She did not appear to be a stupid woman, nor yet a dangerous one, yet she was clearly not as frightened as a civilian ought to be, snatched off the streets and confronted with my organisation. Nor was she wary enough to be a professional.

She had been angry enough- and fast enough, which most people were not- to ram her spiked heel into Mr Hendrick’s left foot hard enough to make him limp at some point during his acquisition of her. She was also angry enough to give me her full, London-accented opinions on kidnappers, fake taxis, smooth operators, and their smug outfits. Some of it was bluster, but not all.  
“And what, Mr Smooth, do you even want?” she finally spat out. I began, bland as a politician.  
“I am a business man-“ She snorted. Mr Hendricks face tightened, unhappily. I continued as if unaware, allowing a little more threat into my tone. “A businessman, who is interested in protecting his city.”

“Yeah? And you think _I’m_ a threat?” Interesting. She was still angry, but found her threat potential amusing. Her tone was interesting; she was obviously aware of something or someone who _was_ capable of being a threat. Her companion, perhaps?  
“No, Ms Noble. I think you may have information that may help me protect my city.” Her face and voice went blank and flat  
“I’m not helping you hurt him.” She squared her jaw and shoulders, sitting more tensely. 

So, she was not entirely oblivious to potential threats. Would she believe any of my reassurances?  
“Please Ms, Noble, you misunderstand me. I’m not interested in Harry Dresden or your companion.” This was not true, but I certainly wasn’t interested in an all-out confrontation with either of them just yet. “I’m only interested in hearing your account of what happened last night.”

"So the big cowboy’s called Harry, is he?” She grinned. “We didn’t hang around long enough to swap names. The Doctor never does like waiting around once everything’s done.”  
“The Doctor? Your suit wearing friend?”  
“Yeah, the Doctor. That’s him.” She smiled again, surprised and proud. A new partnership? I glanced at Mr Hendricks; he was as blank-faced as I was trying not to look. 

"Ms Noble, can you tell me more about what happened last night? Who were those… people?”  
“If you don’t recognise the Doctor’s name, you probably won’t believe me.” She seemed resigned; obviously used to trying to explain the improbable to fools who wanted it to be impossible. I was reminded of Harry Dresden again. “You don’t need to worry; they’re not going to be back. We fixed it.” I tried patience. Ms Noble’s nature was not conducive to a businesslike exchange of information, and she very clearly still had no idea of who I was or the danger I could be, but I doubted she would respond any better to threats. I needed more information on her companion. Possibly he could supply more information.

“So, what is this doctor’s name?” Now she looked impatient again.   
“Like I told you, he’s the Doctor. Just the Doctor. And you won’t believe me.” Behind her, Mr Hendricks rolled his eyes.  
“You might be surprised at what I’m willing to believe, Ms. Noble. Try me.”  
And she did. 

Stripped of her unnecessary commentary; on her friend, on the shoes she had sacrificed, on Harry’s typical male attitude, her tale was an interesting one. It was fairly clear that Donna Noble was either a non-player in the supernatural world, or the best actress I had ever seen. She knew enough to recognise non humans and non human technology, but not enough to describe it as magic rather than scanners and ray guns.

I was slightly interested that she described the rhino headed people as law enforcement; and the green individual as a scammer; it seemed deception of the authorities was a constant in most societies. It was also interesting that they apparently had some way of distinguishing the magical from the non-magical that Ms Noble described as technological; it was why they had fixed on Wizard Dresden, and why the device had broken, of course, although I did not think Ms Noble had realised that.

I had heard, in other circles, of a number of groups that were interested in mixing science and magic, sometimes described as alien technology, to the alleged benefit of humanity, themselves, or the country. If she was being trailed as bait or a decoy by such a group, it would explain a lot about why she had found herself in Chicago with her mysterious Doctor. She appeared to have a lot of faith in him; perhaps it was time to test that.

“You seem to be a observant woman, Ms Noble. Can I ask why you do not appear to be particularly worried over the fact that you have been, as you said earlier, kidnapped by a giant and interrogated by myself?” I tried to be as silkily threatening as possible. Donna’s reaction indicated I was not as successful as usual. She grinned a little wryly, and her mouth twisted as she said

“Well, mate, I’m not saying either of you aren’t scary.” She glanced reassuringly at Mr Hendricks, obviously worried that she had hurt his feelings by not being afraid of us, “But you’re not even as scary as my mother in law! Well, the woman my ex was working for.” Interesting again.   
“Ah. “Well, who am I to compare to a woman’s mother in law. Surely that’s not the only reason. You do not strike me as a stupid woman.”

 

“I don’t?” She seemed more pleased than such a mild complement warranted. “Well, the other reason I’m not that scared, is ‘cos I travel with the Doctor.” It seemed Ms Noble had been scared often enough to have a sliding scale of fearsomeness. A scale on which both Mr Hendricks and I were rated low. I smiled to myself. I was sure Ms Noble would learn all about me in time.  
“And you think he’d be able to save you from me?” I said, as if mildly curious  
“Me, the city, the world, you name it mate, he can save it alright.. Oh yes.” The world? I raised an eyebrow.   
“Here, in this office, surrounded by all my employees?” My estimation of her intelligence took a sharp dive. Even if she did not know my reputation, she should have recognised at least some of the guns and other defences surrounding this office.

“Gotta say, that’s when the Spaceman’s at his best. Up at the sharp end.” She was grinning now, as if she knew something I didn’t. It was almost as annoying as when Harry Dresden did it. Mr Hendricks touched his ear wire and looked somewhat startled. He cleared his throat, and said, cautiously:  
“Boss, there’s someone outside who wants to talk to you. Very urgently, Ms Gard says”  
“I’m in an important meeting. Ms Gard is aware of that.” She was. Which meant that, in the Valkryrie’s opinion, this meeting was less important than whoever it was on the other side of the door. 

Interesting.


End file.
